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Personal Note:

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Poem

I’ve known the streets: Places where the night lingers and the echoes of passing cars feel distant.

My feet have grown accustomed to the dim-lit alleys.

I walked past shuttered windows when the city slept, listening  for the familiar footsteps that come and go.

I leaned against the brick walls, my breath clouding in the cold air, and 
I whispered in low tones, watching headlights sweep across the pavement, and 
I felt the city thrum with unseen stories.

I’ve known the streets: Quiet, restless streets.

My feet have grown accustomed to the dim-lit alleys.

I’ve lain stretched out, my body bare to the night, where beauty and sorrow mingled in my broken bones.
I’ve forsaken my soul for a walking dead man’s pleasure, trading dignity for a moment’s release.

I wanted to retire, live on the beach in Miami, listen to the waves crash on the shore. 
But another car has stopped at the curb, and I must wear that smile that pulls at a lonely man’s groin.

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